


Cupcakes and Coffee Dates

by SpenceRose



Series: Finding A Goldfish [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Clumsy Greg, Cupcakes, Greg Lestrade & John Watson Friendship, Insecure Mycroft, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-16
Updated: 2016-01-26
Packaged: 2018-05-14 06:30:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5733010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpenceRose/pseuds/SpenceRose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mycroft was sure that he wasn't lonely. Then a goldfish spilled coffee on him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Coffee Stains

“Good morning, Mr. Holmes,” Charles grinned as Mycroft walked into the small coffee shop. “Would you like your usual?” 

“That would be lovely, Charles,” Mycroft smiled. “How’s the Missus?”

“She’s doing good, sir. We’re expecting,” Charles replied as he put the lid on the coffee cup. 

“I’m glad to hear that,” Mycroft smiled. Charles put the cup on the counter and Mycroft pulled out his wallet. Something caught his eye and he turned his head. There was display of brightly decorated cupcakes and he tilted his head. “Charles, I would like one of those cupcakes, please.”

Charles took one from the display and put it in a pastry bag. Mycroft paid for the drink and turned to go. He was walking down the street and sipping his coffee when someone ran into him. Coffee went down his shirt and he dropped his umbrella and cupcake. 

“Watch where you…” he began but he caught sight of the silver haired man, his mouth dropping open slightly.

“Oh, jeez. I’m so sorry. I was in a hurry and… here, let me…” he knelt down and picked up the umbrella and pastry bag. He turned to hand them to Mycroft but froze when he saw him. His sunglasses slid down his nose and his jaw dropped. He snapped it shut and cleared his throat. He handed Mycroft’s things to him and winced when he looked down at Mycroft’s shirt. “Oh, your shirt is ruined. I’m so sorry. I was just trying to get somewhere. I should have been paying attention but a friend of mine said they needed help and I assumed the worst...”

“It’s fine,” Mycroft said. “It was an accident. No harm, no foul.”

“I know but let me make it up to you,” he insisted. “Give me your number and I’ll take you to coffee.”

“Do you use this tactic on everyone?” Mycroft asked, moving to hang his umbrella on his other arm so he could pull a pen and small notebook out of his pocket. 

“Are you saying you’re interested?” the man replied without missing a beat. Mycroft felt a blush crawl up his neck as he scrawled his number down. “The name’s Greg, by the way.”

“Mycroft,” he said, handing Greg the paper. “Pleasure to meet you, Gregory.”

“The pleasure is all mine, Mike,” he smirked. His phone chirped and he looked down at it. “Shit. Well, this has been fun. I’ve got to run, Mike.”

With that, he took off down the street again.

“It’s Mycroft,” he mumbled with a small smile. 

Later that day, he received a text. He glanced down at his phone, expecting Sherlock or some other nuisance, but was pleasantly surprised. 

_ It’s Greg. So, coffee date. Does 1 work? _

_ At the same coffee shop you ran into me? -M _

_ That would be the place. _

_ I’ll see you then. -M _

He couldn’t help a small smile. At one o’clock, he went to the coffee shop and saw Greg standing outside with his hands in his pockets and shifting from foot to foot. Nervous, trying to appear at ease, Mycroft noted, absentmindedly deducing. Recently divorced. Overly alert. Badge. Policeman. Used to being in charge of the situation. Detective Inspector.

“Good afternoon, Gregory,” he smiled. A smile instantly stretched across his face as he turned to Mycroft, his eyes crinkling pleasantly. 

“Hey, Mike,” he said, offering his hand. Mycroft shook it and Greg slapped a hand on his shoulder. Mycroft felt his own smile grow. They sat at an outside table and Greg got their coffee. “Honestly, I am so sorry about this morning. I should have been paying attention. I usually do but today was just havoc.”

“You said a friend called?” he asked, tracing the top of the cup with his finger. 

“Yeah,” he sighed. “He gets into danger all the time and all he said was that he needed help. Naturally, I assumed the worst. I called in reinforcements and everything.”

“What was wrong?” Mycroft asked, faintly amused. Greg leaned forward on his elbows with a long suffering look on his face. 

“It was a  _ spider _ ,” he said. Mycroft chuckled and Greg allowed a small smile. “His flatmate and landlady were out so he was alone. I mean, it was a false widow spider but he should have been able to handle it.”

“You were extremely worried about him,” Mycroft noted. Greg raised an eyebrow.

“Of course,” he said. “His past… isn’t the best.”

Mycroft hummed in response. They sat in a silence that wasn’t at all unpleasant as they sipped their coffee and studied the other. 

“You work in Scotland Yard, correct?” Mycroft asked.

“How did you guess that?” Greg frowned.

“I’m perceptive like that,” was the reply.

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Detective inspector.”

I know, Mycroft thought.

“So you’ve no doubt heard of my younger brother,” he said. 

“Who’s your younger brother?” Greg asked curiously.

“His name’s…” 

He was interrupted by Greg’s phone ringing. He sighed and checked it quickly. He closed his eyes and sighed again.

“I’m really sorry but we’re going to have to cut this short,” he said, standing up and pulling his jacket on. “Duty calls. We’ll have to do this again though.”

“I agree, Gregory,” he smiled. That earned him another rather large smile. 

Greg’s phone chirped again and glanced down at it. He rolled his eyes and smiled once more at Mycroft before walking to his car. Mycroft chuckled to himself and stood up, tossing his coffee in the trash.

 

“Sherlock, you have better got a good reason for texting me,” Greg shouted as he walked into the flat.

“I solved it,” Sherlock simply announced. 

“The murder?” Greg asked, wincing internally at the look Sherlock gave him. 

“It was the husband,” he said. 

“The guy’s husband killed him?” Greg asked. “Why?”

“Jealous rage,” Sherlock answered. “He was sleeping with their next door neighbor. As far as I can tell, he hasn’t tried to kill her.”

Greg sighed and facepalmed. John covered his mouth to hide the chuckle at Sherlock’s face.

“This couldn’t have waited longer?” Greg demanded. “I was busy.”

“Busy with what? You were on lunch and you hardly do your paperwork while eating,” Sherlock stated. “Far too professional to do that.”

Greg looked at John for help but was just greeted with a shrug. Greg slumped onto the couch. 

“For your information, Sherlock,” he said. “I was meeting with someone.”

“Meeting?” Sherlock frowned, trying to analyze the context. “Not a friend, not a colleague. Romantic interest? You were rather happy earlier.”

“It was a coffee date,” Greg said. 

“Oh?” John asked, raising an eyebrow and looking over his newspaper. “How’d it go?”

“It was going great until Sherlock pulled me away,” Greg frowned. Sherlock rolled his eyes.

“I tried to tell him not to,” John shrugged. “He insisted we tell you immediately.”

“Well, next time, just come to the station and wait for me there,” he huffed. 

“Just text them back and arrange another  _ meeting _ ,” Sherlock said with a hand wave. Greg rolled his eyes but pulled out his phone anyway.

_ I’m sorry about that. Would you like to do that again? 1pm tomorrow, same place? _

_ Sounds delightful. -M _

_ See you then. _

_ Likewise, Gregory. -M _


	2. You Know Each Other?

Their coffee date became a daily routine. They met at the same place at the same time like clockwork. They didn’t even realize they didn’t need to arrange it everyday.

~

_ Coffee at 1? _

_ See you then. -M _

_ ~ _

_ Coffee, Gregory? -M _

_ See you at 1. _

_ ~ _

They enjoyed the routine and very rarely was it interrupted (even by Sherlock). They fell into this pattern, Mycroft calling him Gregory and Greg calling him every variation of “Mike” that he could think of. It never even occurred to them that they didn’t know each other’s last names. Everyone around them thought they were dating but they had yet to realize the other felt much more than friendship. 

“Good afternoon, Myke,” Greg smiled as he sat down across from him. 

“Hello, Gregory,” he smiled. “How has your day been?”

“Long,” he sighed. “But at least I had this to look forward to.”

“Yes, it does make the day bearable, doesn’t it,” Mycroft agreed, his lips twitching into a smile. 

“You know, I don’t know very much about you,” Greg said, leaning back to regard the other man. “You know about me and yet we rarely talk about you.”

“I don’t live much of an extraordinary life,” he shrugged.

“I find that hard to believe.”

“I don’t really talk about my life.”

“We don’t have to. I’ll take anything. I only know your first name, your coffee order, and that you have a brother,” Greg said, leaning forward, his entire person saying how willing he was to listen. Mycroft was a little surprised. He cleared his throat and straightened his suit uncomfortably.

“Well, what would you like to know?” he asked. Greg leaned back and laced his fingers together, looking like he was about to do an interrogation. 

“Hm, favorite color?” he asked. Mycroft raised an eyebrow at the simple question and smiled slightly.

“Purple,” he replied. Greg smiled. 

They continued in that fashion for a while. Greg slowly learned that Mycroft enjoys cupcakes, liked to read, had tried (and failed) to maintain a diet, and had a job in the British Government. He was impressed.

“You’re quite the man, Mikey,” Greg smiled. “Very impressive.”

Mycroft chuckled but there was a small blush coating his cheeks. Greg smirked back. Mycroft would have answered but both of their phones rang. Mycroft rolled his eyes as he looked down at it and Greg all but glared at the text.

“I have…” Greg began.

“This is…” Mycroft said. 

They laughed and stood up. 

“I’ll see you later, Myke,” Greg said.

“I look forward to it, Gregory,” Mycroft returned. They turned to go their separate ways and got into their respective cars. 

Moments later, Gregory was at a crime scene, crouching by another body. He was irked at the prospect of having to call Sherlock but it wouldn’t be all that bad. 

Ten minutes later, Sherlock was examining the body as Greg and John watched. They hadn’t talked about Greg’s personal life and he was loath to broach the subject. 

“What the bloody hell are you doing here?” they heard Sherlock growl. They looked over at him and then their gaze turned to the man he was addressing. He was a well dressed man leaning on an umbrella with a smug smile. Greg thought he looked like…

“Myke?” he asked, feeling a bit confused. Mycroft looked over at him and stood up straight, seemingly embarrassed.

_ “Myke?” _ Sherlock exclaimed. 

“Oh, Gregory. I’m just here to see my brother,” he said.

“Brother?” Greg asked as Sherlock said. “ _ Gregory _ ?”

“Sherlock Holmes is your brother?” Greg asked. “You’re a  _ Holmes _ ?”

“Yes,” Mycroft answered, closing his eyes in embarrassment. At Sherlock being his brother or Greg’s words, no one was sure.

“Mycroft, why did Lestrade call you Myke and why on Earth did you call him  _ Gregory _ ?” Sherlock demanded. John glanced between the two men.

“Wait, Greg, is this the man you’ve been having coffee with everyday?” he asked.

“Yes,” Greg answered. 

“You’ve been going on dates with my  _ brother _ ?” Sherlock exclaimed. 

“They’re not dates,” Mycroft said and Greg winced internally. John gave him a sympathetic look. “It’s just coffee between friends.”

“You don’t have friends,” Sherlock snapped. Greg sighed and rubbed his temples. 

“You know, you two look like you should talk,” John said, grabbing Sherlock’s arm. “Sherlock and I will be over there is you need us.”

He dragged the protesting man away and Greg shifted uncomfortably.

“So, my brother,” Mycroft frowned. “He was the friend that you were going to see when you ran into me, correct?”

“Yep,” Greg said, putting his hands in his pockets. “I’m surprised we haven’t met sooner, to be honest. Though it is quite the coincidence that we met that way, I suppose.”

“I don’t believe in coincidences,” Mycroft said offhandedly. Greg raised an eyebrow and Mycroft cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, Gregory. I guess I should have… Why are you laughing?”

It had started as just a chuckle but when Mycroft pointed it out it turned into a genuine laugh. He stood there with a puzzled expression as Greg’s laughter slowly died down.

“This entire situation is just so…  _ ridiculous _ ,” he chuckled. “I knew there was something about you that seemed familiar. God, a  _ Holmes. _ ”

“Are you done?” Mycroft asked. Greg chuckled and finally nodded. “I’m a little shocked that he hasn’t mentioned me.”

“Oh, he has,” Greg smirked. “It’s always something along the lines of ‘my brother is so nosy. He needs to mind his own business’ and various other complaints. Never by name, which I always found odd.”

“Oh,” Mycroft said, his voice sounding small even to his own ears. He didn’t realize that Sherlock had made him sound so… undesirable. Greg continued as if he hadn’t heard Mycroft.   
“Naturally, I thought that his brother would be like him,” he shrugged. “You know, annoying, insensitive, just the right side of insane.”

“My brother isn’t insane,” Mycroft said, his voice a bare whisper. Greg raised an eyebrow but gave no other indication that he heard him.

“I really didn’t expect someone quite so charming,” he added offhandedly. Mycroft’s hand tightened on his umbrella. Greg smirked when he noticed. 

“Charming?” he asked in confusion. 

“Yes, charming,” Greg said. “And good looking as well.” he paused, his eyes running over Mycroft approvingly. “Make than,  _ extremely _ good looking.”

Mycroft opened his mouth and then shut it again, his brain visibly working to process this information. Oh no, Greg thought. 

“You okay there, buddy?” he asked, stepping forward and placing a hand on his shoulder. Mycroft cleared his throat and nodded.

“I’m fine,” he answered. Greg raised an eyebrow. 

“You sure? Because you look faint and I don’t want to ask you out if you don’t know what I’m saying,” he smiled. 

“Ask me out?” Mycroft asked, finally gaining control of himself. 

“Yes, I wanted to before but, you know, I got called away,” he said, sounding a bit sheepish. “So?”

“Yes, I would enjoy that, Gregory,” he smiled, gripping his cane still tighter than normal to stay upright. 

“Good,” Greg smiled. “Say, eight tonight? My place?”

“Yes,” Mycroft said, nodding. He had to be dreaming. 

“I’ll text you my address,” He smiled. 

“See you then, Gregory,” Mycroft said.


	3. Of Cake and Threats

At precisely eight, Mycroft arrived at Greg’s flat. He knocked on the door and was greeted with an excited sounding “Come in!”. He walked in and heard Greg in what sounded like the kitchen. He walked into the kitchen and saw Greg standing by the stove. He was dressed in a simple button up and jeans that made Mycroft physically unable to look away from the other man’s backside.

“Oh, Myke, you’re… right on time,” Greg said, glancing at his watch as he turned to him.

“Did you expect me to be late,” he asked.

“No, of course not,” he laughed. “Dinner just isn’t ready yet. Here, have a seat.”

He gestured to the table, which was gorgeously set. (Purple roses, Mycroft noted with a chuckle.) He laid his jacket over the back of the chair and sat down.

“So, Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade can cook,” Mycroft said with a sly smile, crossing his legs and lacing his hands together. “I can’t say that I’m surprised.”

“One of my many talents, Mr. Holmes,” Greg winked over his shoulder. Mycroft chuckled. “Wine?”

“Please,” Mycroft said. Greg poured him some into a glass and he sipped it leisurely. 

“So what are you making us, Gregory?” he asked. 

“Chicken piccata,” he replied. “And you do know that most people call me Greg, right?”

“And you’re aware that no one refers to me as anything but Mycroft,” he countered. Greg laughed and turned to face him. “I’ll refer to you as Greg if you use Mycroft.”

“No way, Mikey,” Greg smirked, crossing his arms. He laughed at the clearly disgusted look on Mycroft’s face. He turned back to the stove as he finished cooking and he set a plate in front of Mycroft.

“Bon appetit,” he grinned. Mycroft smiled as Greg sat across from him. He took a bite and hummed in satisfaction.

“This is amazing,” he said. Greg grinned with pride. They discussed different things, small talk mostly. “I do hope Sherlock didn’t give you a hard time after I left.”

“John calmed him down and he focused on the case. He barely spoke to me,” he said. “I should be thanking you.”

“Yes, my little brother seems to be bit much,” Mycroft chuckled but something sad was in his eyes.

“What is it?” Greg asked. 

“What?” Mycroft asked. 

“You’re upset. Why?”

Mycroft looked down at his plate and poked at it with his fork.

“You barely tolerate my brother and yet he and I are more alike than either of us care to admit,” he said. “Once you realize this, I am sure that you will not find my company nearly as enjoyable.”

Greg chuckled and Mycroft looked up at him with hurt in his eyes.

“You think I just  _ tolerate _ Sherlock?” he asked and chuckled again. “If I only tolerated him, I wouldn’t come at his every beck and call. Honestly, I would say that he and I are friends. Good friends, in fact. You honestly think that I’ll just leave just because you’re like him? You seem to forget that we met because I was literally  _ running _ to make sure he was okay. Besides, you’re much easier on the eyes than Sherlock.”

Mycroft looked up at him, studying him for any signs of deceit. When he saw none, a smile stretched across his face.

The date went smooth after that, Mycroft feeling completely at ease. They finished eating and Greg took the plates. He then set in front of Mycroft a piece of cake. He looked from it to Greg, who just smiled. 

“I know, I know,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “The diet thing. But, come on, it's not like you need it.”

“Actually,” Mycroft began. Greg silenced him with a look and sat down with his own piece. Slowly, Mycroft picked up his fork and took a bite. His eyes widened but he quickly schooled his expression. “Did you make this as well?”

“Yep,” Greg said with a hint of arrogant pride. “I've been told they my cakes are to die for.”

“I should hope that I don't have to die to taste it again,” Mycroft commented. Greg laughed and pointed his fork almost threateningly at him.

“If you don't, there's a whole cake with your name on it,” he said. Mycroft smiled at that and they were talking.

It was only when Mycroft realized that he had been there three and a half hours that he decided it was time to leave.

“Aw,” Greg pouted. “Do you really have to go? You've only just got here.”

“Gregory, I've been here since eight. It's 11:30 now,” Mycroft said, smiling slightly.

“Really? Wow, time really flies with you here,” He said. Mycroft rolled his eyes and stood up. 

“I'll walk you to your car,” Greg said.

The walked in silence to Mycroft’s car. They there for a moment and Greg gathered all of his courage. 

“Can I kiss you?” he asked. Mycroft blinked and slowly nodded. 

“Please do,” he said, his voice sounding breathless. Greg smiled and then leaned in. 

Their lips touched and Greg's hands came up to rest of Mycroft’s cheeks and Mycroft’s arms went around his waist. They pulled away for breath and stared at each other with small smiles on their faces 

“I'll see you tomorrow, Gregory,” Mycroft said as they reluctantly let go of each other.

“I look forward to it, Mike,” Greg smiled. He noted smugly that Mycroft seemed to be blushing quite terribly as he got into the car. He drove off and Greg went back into the house, resisting the urge to lean against the door and sigh dramatically like the star of a romantic comedy. Instead, he turned on music and began cleaning. 

The next morning, he was humming as he finished up his paperwork. He looked up as John walked in. 

“Good morning, John,” he grinned. John raised an eyebrow.

“You seem extremely chipper,” he said. “Your date with Mycroft go well?”

“Yes,” he said. “Now, what can I do for you?”

“I just came to warn you that Sherlock is…” John began and then Sherlock barges into the office. “Here, apparently.”

“John, can I speak with Lestrade alone?” he asked. John glanced at Greg who looked slightly alarmed at Sherlock's sudden entrance. He left and Sherlock walked towards the desk with his hands behind his back.

“Would you like to sit?” Greg asked. 

“I'd rather stand during this, thank you,” Sherlock said.

Shit, Greg thought. Sherlock was looking down has nose at him and he found it unnerving. 

“So, uh, what is it?” he asked. Sherlock raised an eyebrow. 

“Mycroft went on a date with you last high and judging by your manner, I'm guessing it went well,” he stated. 

“Yes,” he agreed. 

“As I'm sure you're aware, emotions are not something that comes easily to me,” Sherlock said. “That is one of the few traits I share with my brother. Unfortunately, Mycroft is more… sensitive to things of that nature. He overanalyzes and often pushes away those who he should keep close.You must remember that, while we may not be close, I do care for my brother. If you are to hurt him, there would be very few things that could protect you.”

“I’ll remember that,” Greg promised. “I don’t want to hurt him, Sherlock.” 

Sherlock nodded and looked around almost suspiciously. He took a breath and looked down at Greg, his eyes softening. He almost looked vulnerable.

“I am well aware of the kind of man you are and you are the one of the few people that I hold in high regard,” he said, maintaining full eye contact that unnerved Greg. “You are very kind and intelligent. I can not think of anyone better for my brother.”

“Thank you,” Greg said, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion. Sherlock nodded and slid his hands into his coat pockets. He turned to go and stopped just before he opened the door. 

“Oh, and not a word of this is to leave this room,” he said, looking back at Greg with a small smile. “It wouldn’t do for my brother to know how much I care for him.”

“Of course, Sherlock,” Greg smiled. “I won’t tell a soul.”

Sherlock smiled at him and then schooled his expression and left the room. Greg leaned back in his chair with a ridiculous smile on his face.


	4. I realized...

Three months. That’s how long it had been since Mycroft and Greg met. It had been two and a half months since their first date. They’ve had about ten dates since then, not including their coffee dates. Yes, Greg knew how petty it was to count. He didn’t care, though. He was happy that they had and in the right circumstances for them to start a relationship. 

Now he was sitting at the same cafe at the same table they always sat at. And it was 1:30. He knew he shouldn’t be nervous. Then again, Mycroft was never late and always called ahead when he had to cancel. 

Greg decided to call. The call immediately went to voicemail and Greg’s anxiety spiked. He waited until two, worrying the entire time. He half hoped that Mycroft would pull up in his black car and tell him he was stuck in a meeting with China trying to negotiate tea services. Anything would do really. 

“Sir?” 

His head snapped up to look at Donovan and Anderson. They were staring at him with something akin to sympathy. He realized it must look like he got stood up with the way his head was in his hands. He cleared his throat and leaned back, trying to look nonchalant.

“Are you okay?” Donovan asked. 

“I’m fine,” he said, smiling as best as he could. 

“Well, it’s two o'clock, sir,” she said, looking horribly unconvinced. “Shouldn’t you be heading back to work?” 

“Oh, yes,” he said. “I was just about to, actually.”

He stood up and nodded at them before walking down the street. He pulled his phone back out and called again. Voicemail. He sighed and got into his office to see Sherlock sitting behind the desk with his feet propped up on his desk and John sitting across from him. 

“You look worried,” Sherlock said, lifting an eyebrow. “Something go wrong with your coffee date with my brother?”

Greg winced as he closed the door. Now John seemed just as curious as Sherlock.

“He didn’t show,” Greg answered. Sherlock’s eyebrows went up as well as John’s. “He didn’t call or text and every time I call it goes straight to voicemail.”

Sherlock took his feet off the desk so he could sit up. His face looked terribly open with worry written across it.

“Have you tried Anthea?” he asked. 

“No,” Greg sighed, rubbing his forehead. “I don't know her number.”

“Luckily, I do,” Sherlock said. He pulled out his phone and clicked through his contacts. He held it to his ear and cursed profusely when it didn't even ring. 

“Nothing?” Greg asked, his shoulders sagging. Sherlock shook his head and stood up.

“Come along, John,” he said. “What we had to tell Lestrade can wait. Let's go pay Mycroft’s office a visit.”

“I'll come too,” Greg said, straightening up. 

“No, Graham, stay here. If anything, my brother will come here himself to apologize in person,” Sherlock said. 

“Greg,” he hissed as Sherlock walked out. John patted his shoulder consolingly. 

“He'll be fine, Greg,” he smiled and followed Sherlock. Greg's shoulders sagged again as he slumped into his chair. 

Hardly any paperwork was done that day. Every few minutes, Greg would call Mycroft's phone and his head would snap up when his door opened. The calls were never answered and it was never Mycroft. 

He got enough of the paperwork done to make it look like he had focused on it but there was no other indication that he had even come back to work after his lunch break. He was silent and more than once the people entering his office had been sent to check if he was still there. 

Sherlock didn't call or text to tell him what he had found. He assumed that was because he hasn't found anything. He waited, staring at his phone and hoping for something from either of the Holmes men. 

“Sir,” Donovan said as she opened the door. “I think you should head home.”

Greg glanced at the time and frowned. It was well after eleven. He sighed and stood up. 

“Thank you, Sally,” he said. “You should head home too and get some sleep, yeah? One of us needs to be rested tomorrow.”

“Of course, sir,” she said, sounding slightly confused. Greg gathered his things and began the overly silent journey back to his flat. He wasn't sure when it had started raining but he felt that it was appropriate for his mood. He began to unlock the door to his flat and had resigned himself to the fact that no one had any news when his phone rang.

“Hi, Greg,” John said when he answered.. Greg's shoulders fell and he continued to unlock his flat. 

“Hello, John,” he said tiredly. 

“I know I'm not the call you expected but Sherlock told me to call you,” he explained. “Mycroft is in a meeting somewhere. We don't know where or when he'll be back but he's fine.”

“Thanks, John,” Greg smiled. “That's the best news I've heard all day.”

“Not a problem,” John replied. “Now get some sleep. You sound about ready to pass out.”

Greg laughed quietly. 

“Thank Sherlock for me,” he said. 

“I will,” John promised. “Goodnight, Greg.”

“Goodnight, John,” he smiled. He hung up and walked into the flat. He took of his coat and undid his tie. He kicked off his shoes and flopped onto his couch, leaning his head back. 

He was about to doze off when there was a small knock on his door. Just one but he knew it was there. Getting to his feet with a groan, he answered the door, staring at the man that stood dripping in front of him.

“Hello, Gregory.”

“Mycroft,” he breathed, pulling him into a hug. “God, I was worried.”

He held him at arm's length and looked him over. He was soaking wet and his eyes drooped with exhaustion. His suit was ripped in some places and dirt and mud covered a good part of him.

Greg led him in and sat him on the couch. He him made a cup of tea and sat next to him. For a while, the only sound was clinking as Mycroft's hands shook. Greg looked him over for injuries but there was nothing save a few bruises 

“Let's get you out of those clothes,” he said. He pulled him to his feet and took the teacup, placing it on the table. He led him to the room and dug through his drawers for something for him. He finally found sweatpants and a T-shirt. 

He helped Mycroft undress, undoing buttons and pulling the pieces of clothing Mycroft's shaking fingers couldn't. 

Once Mycroft was dressed in dry clothes, Greg pulled him towards the bed. He wrapped Mycroft in a blanket and pulled him into his arms.

“Can you tell me what happened?” he asked.

“The meeting went bad,” Mycroft whispered, burying his face in Greg's neck. “They didn't want to talk. I had to fight my way out. I was lucky there wasn't more of them.”

He sighed.

“All the while, I thought of you. I realized that I love you, Greg.”

“I love you too, Mycroft.”


	5. That Warm Feeling

When Mycroft awoke the next morning, he was immediately aware of two things: He wasn’t home and Greg was not in the bed. He sat up with a groan and glanced at the alarmclock. 9:30. He’s never woken up so late. He got out of the bed, his muscles protesting with every movement, and made his way to the kitchen. 

Greg was standing in front of the stove, humming something Mycroft couldn’t identify. He was in his own element and didn’t notice as Mycroft walked up behind him. He jumped slightly as he slid his arms around his waist.

“Geez, you Holmes and your ability to walk silently,” he breathed. Mycroft chuckled as he buried his face in Greg’s neck.

“I’m sorry, Gregory,” he said, not sounding at all sorry. Greg rolled his eyes fondly and placed a hand over Mycroft’s. 

“How are you feeling this morning?” he asked as he flipped a pancake. 

“Sore,” Mycroft mumbled into his shoulder. 

“Well, are you hungry?”

“Ravenous,” came the muffled reply.

They sat down to eat a few minutes later. Mycroft looked up at Greg to see him watching him with a fond smile. He blinked, feeling the blush that only Greg could cause.

“Gregory?” he asked. Greg blinked and looked down at his plate, blushing himself.

“Sorry. I’m just glad that you’re here and that you’re safe,” he said. Mycroft chuckled. 

Greg suddenly looked at his watch. His face fell and he sighed.

“I’m late,” he said, looking at Mycroft apologetically. He just chuckled lightly. 

“I'll see you later then, I suppose?” he said. Greg smiled and stood up, kissing Mycroft quickly. 

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Gregory.”

Greg smiled and headed to the Yard. He walked into his office and saw the paperwork on his desk. He really should have done more yesterday. 

He sat down and set to work, trying to get as much done as possible. By 12:30, he had barely made a dent. He sighed and pulled out his phone to call Mycroft.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Mike,” he said. “I can't make it to coffee today. I have a literal mountain of paperwork that needs to get done.”

“Well, I doubt you have a  _ literal  _ mountain on your desk,” Mycroft said, making Greg chuckle. “But I understand the point.”

“Thank you. I'll make it up to you.”

“I'm sure you will. Goodbye, Gregory.”

“Goodbye, Mike,” he smiled and they hung up. 

Greg smiled and then looked at the stack on his desk. It was going to be a long day. He grabbed a file and flipped it open.

Half an hour later, someone walked in. He sighed without looking up.

“Donovan, I can't talk right now. I'm busy,” he said.

“I assure you I won't be much of a disturbance.”

He looked up and grinned as Mycroft walked towards the desk. He wore a light grey suit and looked just as impeccable as ever. Certainly not like he had the night before.

“Mike,” Greg smiled. “What are you doing here?”

“I brought you coffee,” he said, setting the cup on the desk. “I thought you might appreciate it.”

“Thank you,” he said, sipping the coffee. He went back to what he had been doing before Mycroft came in and said man sat across from him. “As much as I love your company, you must have something better to do than sit around and watch me do boring paperwork.”

“I hardly find anything you do boring, Gregory.”

Greg blushed and he looked down, fiddling with his phone.

“Oh, you smooth talker,” he muttered. Mycroft smirked. 

“As for having something better to do, I don’t have anything scheduled until two and it is currently only 1:42.” 

Greg looked up at him. Mycroft was sitting, looking around the office as if he had never been there before. He smiled and shook his head, going back to the paper in front of him. 

Mycroft did stay with him, sometimes talking but most of the time not. Greg had forgotten how good it was just to have someone there with him. 

At 1:59, Mycroft stood up and Greg looked up, slightly disappointed. 

“Dinner tonight?” he basically blurted as Mycroft was about to say goodbye. Mycroft raised an eyebrow and smiled. “To make up for today?”

“Of course,” he said. 

“Great, uh, my place? Say, around nine?”

“I'll see you then.”

Mycroft walked around the desk and leaned down to kiss him gently. He leaned back and Greg felt a little dazed as he always does when he and Mycroft kissed. Mycroft smiled at the look on his face and left just as suddenly as he came. 

At nine, Mycroft stood outside Greg's apartment. He knocked casually, though he felt nervous as he always did when around Greg. He knew how to handle it. Well, at least that's what he told himself. That all flew out the window when Greg opened the door. 

“Good evening, Gregory,” he said. Greg's smile grew slightly.

“Hello, Mike.”

Mycroft walked past him and hung up his coat and umbrella. Greg slipped into the kitchen and Mycroft followed him, noticing the two plates in his hands.

“Am I to be treated to your exquisite cooking again, Gregory?” 

Greg chuckled as he set the plates on the table. 

“Don't you know how to flatter a guy,” he said, batting his eyelashes in exaggeration. Mycroft smiled and they sat down.

“I'm very glad to have met you, Gregory,” he said. “Even if you did almost run me down in the process.”

“You certainly weren't complaining at the time,” Greg smirked. 

“It's very difficult to be upset when you're looking at one as handsome as you, Gregory.”

A blush spread across Greg's face and Mycroft smiled in triumph. 

“Oh, Mr. Holmes,” he said, his voice higher in a mock impression of a female. Mycroft rolled his eyes. 

“I must also say that I do enjoy how eloquent you are,” he stated with a raised eyebrow.

“Eloquent?” Greg asked, raising an eyebrow. “I hardly think that eloquent is a word that should be used to describe me but you should hear my cheesy poetry.”

“Cheesy poetry?” Mycroft asked, furrowing his eyebrows. Greg just grinned. 

“Roses are red, violets are blue, sugar is sweet, and so are you.”

“Gregory, I do not think…”

“Roses are red, violets are blue, I love you, Mycroft, my division is always you.”

Mycroft blushed slightly and Greg grinned, standing up to come behind him. 

“Wouldn’t it be the perfect crime if I stole your heart and you stole mine?”

“Gregory, I hardly think that…” 

“Roses are red, violets are blue, sometimes you’re really thorny, when I’m with you I get really…”

“Gregory!”

“Corny.”

Mycroft glared at him as he laughed.

“That was in poor taste,” Mycroft stated. Greg kissed his cheek.

“You were the one that thought of it so dirty,” he replied. The blush on Mycroft’s face darkened and Greg chuckled as he stood up. “Well, what if I told you that I made another cake? We can sit on the couch and eat it with a really corny romcom.”

“Very well,” Mycroft said. “If that is what you want.”

“Of course, Mike,” Greg laughed. 

A few minutes later, they were sitting on the couch with pieces of cake and a movie in. They finished eating and Greg took the plates into the kitchen. He came back and Mycroft curled into him. They rearranged themselves so Greg was lying back and Mycroft was on his chest. Mycroft was the first to call asleep and Greg pulled the blanket that was over the back of the couch over them. 

The next morning, Mycroft was the first one awake. He looked up to see Greg asleep and smiled, nestling back into his chest. He felt warm all over. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt so content. 

Greg stirred and looked down at him with a half asleep smile. He pressed a kiss to his forehead and his eyes closed slightly.

“Gregory,” he whispered. Greg hummed in reply as he opened his eyes again. Mycroft pushed himself forward to kiss him. 

It was the sweetest kiss they’d ever shared. Mycroft could feel the love from Greg as arms wrapped tighter around his waist. Mycroft’s hands came up to cradle Greg’s jaw and he tilted his head. They finally pulled away when the need for air arose and Greg pressed another kiss to his forehead.

“I love you, Mikey.”

“I love you, too, Gregory.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the Kudos and very kind comments! The next in the series should be up soon!


End file.
